


erasing herself from the narrative

by crownedblake



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: AU, Angst, Crying, F/F, F/M, Hamilton Lyrics, Heavy Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Sorry, Lowercase, M/M, Past Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Sad, Sorry Not Sorry, im actually sobbing ok, inspired by first burn, this is making me sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 20:21:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14552784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownedblake/pseuds/crownedblake
Summary: elizabeth's reaction to the reynolds pamphlet.





	erasing herself from the narrative

**Author's Note:**

> i'm crying, okay?

the children were soundly asleep, and the house was practically silent. well, except for the ambient crackling of the warm fireplace located in the center of the living room. eliza sat, eyes dull, on the loveseat in front of the fire. she ran her nimble fingers over the envelopes that she'd kept in her bottom dresser drawer for years, breathing a shaky exhale as she opened each one and skimmed them over.

"my dearest betsey, how are the children coming along? i promise that i'll be back soon, i give you my word."  
"eliza, my eliza, it's tomorrow. i'll be back tomorrow without a doubt, and you have no idea the things i've wished to say in person."  
"this letter will be quite short sweetheart, for i have innumerable pieces to finish by the end of the week. i love you, never forget that."

every sentence, every phrase, every word—it made her want to scream.

he _never_ loved her. not if he could betray her so easily.

eliza had made herself promise not to cry anymore until the following morning, for she felt that she'd done enough crying for one day. but as she ran her fingertips over alexander's handwritten notes, salty, hot tears began to trickle down her cheeks and onto the pale stationary.

it was an act of impulsivity. the fire was just there, waiting, asking for the letters to be dropped in. there was no reason to hold on anymore, she thought. not to him—not to his words, his letters, his anything.

 

* * *

 

"sweetheart?" alexander's voice held a faint tremor, eyes wide at the sight of his wife standing in front of the fireplace. the envelopes that they both recognized all too well were sprawled in an unorganized array across the floor, the remains of his letters now ash in the fire. the smell of smoke in the room was overwhelming. "eliza, my love, what's happened to you?"

eliza failed to turn and face him. she couldn't. "i could ask you the same thing," she said shortly. her voice was cold, hiding her evident vulnerability. her cheeks were wet with tears, her lips pulled into a trembling frown. "i thought- i thought you loved me, alexander."

his face immediately filled with concern as he heard heartbreak leave the lips from the one he loved the most. "i'm sorry? eliza, where is this coming from? i _do_ love you." he explained, astonished as to how she could ever think otherwise. he gently placed a hand on her arm, as if he touched her any harder, she would shatter right before him.

"don't." the harshness of her voice surprised alexander, and he instinctively took a step away from her. she pulled her arm from his touch, glaring at him with brown eyes ablaze. "don't touch me _ever_ again. don't try to play dumb, either," she scoffed, wiping the hot tears that began to roll down her rosy cheeks once again.

alexander's face softened, and he cleared his throat. he didn't think she'd have known about the reynolds pamphlet so soon. he wanted to tell her in person, even though he knew that it would be quite difficult to do so after he released his initial piece. he stood there, pathetically. his eyes had darkened, his lips slightly pursed together. what would he say? what could he say? his thoughts were interrupted by his wife—if that's even what she called herself anymore.

"you tell me that you love me now, but i can only imagine that tomorrow, you're going to meet that. . . that whore," she stammered, no longer caring about who she called what. she took a quick gaze over alexander, looking at him with pure disgust in her eyes. the man who said he cared about her, and only her, was now sporting a line of bruises across his collarbone. charming. "did you two have fun?" she let out a humorless laugh, her tears now angry rather than sad. how could she let herself be so naive, so oblivious? it was right underneath her nose the entire time, and all it took was a broken heart to realize it.

"i-"

"you. . .  what?" eliza interrupted. "you're sorry? you have an explanation? you won't do it again?" she folded her arms across her chest, an eyebrow arching as he waited for his response. at his lack of one, she bit her lip, nodding slowly. "of course. when eliza finally speaks, you have no response. but when it's angelica—'yes, my dearest? i'm all ears.'" she mocked, batting her lashes in a falsely sweet manner. "maria reynolds—'yes, oh yes! my wife _surely_ won't find out about this!'" it pained her to make fun of him like this, but the look on his face was worth it. he deserved humiliation, if he hadn't gotten enough from his writings. "even. . even peggy!" she groaned, running her hands through her hair.

"elizabeth, if you could hear me out, please. i promise-"

"no. no more promises, not from you." she cut him off shortly, taking a deep breath. "tell my children i had a last-minute business call. under no circumstances will you speak of this to them." she picked up her purse, slinging it over her shoulder. she was leaving—where? she had no idea.

alexander's eyes widened, and he caught her waist before she could stumble through the door. "elizabeth. . . don't leave. we can talk about this- just allow me to explain. we can work through this," he pleaded, his voice trembling with a concern he'd saved just for her. their faces were merely inches apart, his eyes searching one her's for a sign—a sign that she should stay, a sign that they should talk about things, a sign that they could make things better after this was all said and done.

unfortunately, he found nothing.

"i never wish to see you again, alexander."

she gripped his wrist, moving it from her waist. she took another deep breath before walking out of the door, refusing to look back at alexander. once the door had closed behind her, however, she turned around, gazing at her house from the outside. the house that she'd fallen in love with her husband in, the house that she'd had children with him in, the house that their family resided in.

not anymore.

elizabeth would be heard, even if it wasn't alexander who listened.

 

 


End file.
